


Roaring Fires

by feelingofthesea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Death, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family, Loneliness, Tragic Romance, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelingofthesea/pseuds/feelingofthesea
Summary: Sometimes even the bravest lose hope.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 21





	Roaring Fires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuinTalon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuinTalon/gifts).



> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.
> 
> This is the first ever thing I wrote in english that was not an essay for school. I am not a native speaker. It's probably terrible. But QuinTalons graphic for the 1940s decades challenge in the Facebook group Dark Arts Society spoke so insistently to me and then I remembered this thing I wrote a long time ago, that fit so well but turned out to be way more sad then I remembered. Nobody except me and my limited language skills read through this, but I wanted to share it anyways before I loose the courage to do so again.

_Cold._

There is nothing else on our minds. Just freezing _, fucking_ _deadly_ cold. You loose your sense for the whole when constantly fighting for your life.

We are ten, maybe twenty.

Soldiers.

Stuck somewhere in the middle of the unyielding _bloody_ Russian winter. For weeks now.

All hope is lost. None of us cares for the war anymore or even something as insignificant as victory. What matters is surviving. Some of us even don’t care about that anymore. You can hear them at night. Wimper. Welcoming dead. They believe it is easing to just give up. But I can’t. I have to fight. For _her_. _For them_.

Dates lost their meaning long ago. What even is a day of the week or another if you can die any moment? Nothing. Abso- _fucking_ -lutely! Today though is special. I can feel it. Probably Christmas Eve. I’m not sure anymore.

I don’t know where I am. I hide in a hutch somewhere in this never-ending forest. Alone. I lost my mates a couple of days ago. There were only four of us anymore anyways.

I’m cold. Or maybe not. I don’t feel it anymore. I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing. I could as well be dead. From the outside. But inside of me, there is this burning fire. Hot. Roaring. _Her_ fire. _Theirs_. It throbs inside of me. Relentless. I have to fight.

I think of her. Her fierce behavior. That she always needs to be right. I need to get back to her. I can’t allow that her worries have been right. I want to watch my daughter grow, see my son again. Who’s hero I always have been. I am.

My fingers shake when I reach for the picture inside of my pocket. The one somebody snapped before I left. She’s smiling up at me. There is all this love, I still can’t believe I deserve. My heart aches and maybe, just maybe a tear slips from my eye. But I don’t feel it anymore.

_And as one of the bravest is also lost to death, welcomes the release, people huddle for warmth at home. There are roaring fires and they sing, „Silent night, holy night…“ All hope in those few words. Hope that’s long ago lost._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you a thousand times for reading!


End file.
